


Lacuna

by carolinablu85



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Flashbacks, M/M, Memory Loss/Memory Wipe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2011-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinablu85/pseuds/carolinablu85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!/ The world forgiving, by the world forgot./ Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!/ Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d. -Alexander Pope</i> -- Some things are just impossible to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacuna

**Author's Note:**

> Written for some friends' birthday on LJ- a shameless 'Nuke' remake of one of my favorite movies :) Thanks for reading!

He’s not entirely sure why he does it. In fact, he’s not sure at _all._ It’s the kind of impulsiveness you act on when you’re not afraid of limitations or consequences. It’s the kind of impulsiveness Noah’s pretty sure he has never possessed.

And yet, one moment he’s in his rental car, driving through the streets of Chicago. The next, he’s on the highway, wrenching the steering wheel to the side, taking an exit for God only knows what reason. And then pretty soon, he’s driving into this small random town, winding through small random streets.

He parks the car and starts walking instead, letting his feet decide where to go. There’s a pedestrian-only street in town, old-fashioned, quaint. He walks along, avoiding eye contact (or any contact) as much as he can. He’s an awkward person normally, socially, every-ly, and it’s better if he’s the only one around who knows it.

Turning a corner past a diner, he sees a bench. A perfectly nondescript, boring bench. But Noah likes it. It looks almost... happy for some reason. He rolls his eyes at himself, but that doesn’t stop him from sitting down on it, taking a deep breath, actually... whoa, is this what _relaxing_ feels like?

He sits and people-watches for a few minutes, until the possibility of accidentally attracting attention becomes too much. Then he pulls his notebook out of the inside of his jacket, intending to go over more notes for the film shoot tomorrow. As he reaches, he realizes his watch is cracked across the face. When did that happen?

He can’t remember.

He makes a few notes in the journal, more for something to do than anything else. He’s tired all of a sudden. And wondering why the hell he came here.

He notices someone standing a ways down the street, looking into a shop window. A guy. Blondish shaggy hair, probably his age. Really, really beautiful. Too beautiful. Noah quickly lowers his gaze when the stranger turns in his direction, walking closer. Noah buries himself back in his notebook for protection.

And suddenly, there’s someone sitting on the bench next to him. “Hi.”

Noah looks up, confused and startled. “I- I’m sorry?”

It’s him, the stranger. The way-too-beautiful one. Grinning at Noah like they’re already best friends. “Why are you sorry? I just said hi.”

“I didn’t know if you were talking to me, or...” Noah trails off, a blush no-doubt coloring his face.

Stranger looks pointedly around the bench. It’s just the two of them. “Really?”

“I didn’t want to assume,” he mumbles, feeling more than stupid.

Stranger grins even wider, somehow. _He has dimples._ “Aw, come on. Live dangerously. Take the leap and assume someone is talking to you on an otherwise empty bench.”

And Noah finds himself smiling. “Hi,” he says back.

“There it is!” Stranger almost crows, triumphant. “You _can_ smile. I’ve been watching you for minutes and minutes, and I was getting worried. You with the sad eyes.”

Noah wants to keep smiling, but he frowns a little at the words. He recognizes them. “That’s Cyndi Lauper, right?”

“Exactly!” Stranger nods. “I can’t remember what song, though.”

Noah opens his mouth, because he knows, he’s sure he knows. But... nothing comes out. What song is it? “I can’t remember either.”

Stranger shrugs. “No big deal. I’m Luke, by the way.”

It’s instantly Noah’s favorite name in the world. He’s pretty sure he’s never met a Luke before. “Hi. Noah Mayer.”

“Hello, Noah,” Luke’s eyes suddenly light up. “I think it’s ‘True Colors.’ The song.”

“Really?” Noah frowns again. “I don’t know that one.”

“I’m pretty sure it is. I think,” Luke shakes his head, mood switching just like that into happy-bouncy again. Noah should be exhausted from it (of it), but he’s not. “So what brings you to Oakdale, Noah?”

The only thing better than hearing Luke’s name is hearing Luke say _his_ name. And damn, he almost admits that out loud. Catching himself just in time, “I’m in Chicago to work on a film. Directing it. I’m here, um, scouting areas outside the city.”

“Nice,” Luke nods. “That’s pretty cool. I knew you had to be something creative, I could tell. Kindred spirit, maybe.”

“You work in film?” he asks.

Luke shakes his head. “Literature.”

“You’re a writer?” He feels like he’s playing some weird Twenty Questions game. He kinda wants to win.

Another headshake. “Well, for fun, yeah. But I work at the bookshop a couple blocks that way,” Luke hooks his thumb in the direction behind them. “I was just finished my shift for the day when I saw someone sitting on my favorite bench.”

“Oh, sorry,” he says automatically, though he doesn’t make any move to get up. Or stop smiling.

Luke doesn’t either. “That’s very nice of you.” He stops for a second, tilting his head. “Nice is such a weird, vague word, isn’t it?” Then back to Noah, “But it’s okay. Here, take this.” And with no warning, almost out of nowhere, he drops a notebook into Noah’s lap.

Noah blinks. It was like Bugs Bunny pulling a hammer out of his fur. _Where did that come from?_ He picks up the notebook- a journal, really, leatherbound- and examines it. “At the risk of giving you way too much of a setup, where am I supposed to put this?”

Luke laughs again, and Noah holds onto the feeling that courses through him at the sound. _I made him laugh._ “Anywhere you want. It’s for you.”

“Me?”

“The one you were writing in is almost full, I noticed. I notice weird things like that. And I always have extra ones lying around, so here. You can have that one.”

Noah stares at Luke’s completely unrepentant face. “But... why?”

Luke pats his arm. “Because- here’s my tiny confession for the day- I like that you’re nice.”

Noah tries to turn his gaze away, knowing full well that that stupid blush is probably three-alarm-fire-red now. “Thank you, Luke.”

And he probably imagines it, but it almost seems like Luke’s smile softens when he says Luke’s name. Like Luke maybe possibly feels anything remotely close to what Noah is feeling right now. “You’re welcome.”

There’s a beat of silence, and though Noah is surprised at how comfortable it is, the current sizzling through him makes him just as restless. So he does what he does best- Operation Hasty Retreat. “So, um, I have to get back to-”

“Chicago!” Luke finishes for him. “Right, of course. Artist Guy has to get back to his movie set. Shit! Noah. I’ll remember your name, I promise.”

“Because I’m so nice?” Noah asks.

Luke smiles wide. “Because you’re so nice,” he nods back. “I’ll let you go then, _Noah._ It was nice meeting you.”

And then like a phantom, like a sprite, he’s gone. Noah stares at the empty bench for a moment before dragging himself upward and back towards his car, half-convinced that whole thing was just a dream. And he’s almost sure, until he pulls out of the parking lot and sees Luke again, walking down the street.

Once again, Noah feels that impulsiveness forcing his hand.

He pulls over.

“Do you need a ride?” he calls through the open window.

Luke stares for maybe a full three seconds. Then he smiles. “A ride would be very _nice_.”

******

Noah paces back and forth, angry, agitated, half an inch away from pulling his own hair out. He clasps his damn watch in one hand, half wishing he could crack it again from sheer strength and will alone.

“Will you sit down? Or slow down, at least?” Ameera tries to grab his shoulder and misses as he goes by her again.

“I just can’t fucking believe he would do that,” Noah ignores his pseudo-sister’s ‘no profanity’ rule. “I just... us? Me? After... after everything, to pretend I don’t even exist?”

“Okay, okay,” Jeremy holds up his hands in what’s probably supposed to be a calming gesture. It doesn’t work. “Just explain to me what happened.”

Noah can’t stop pacing. “I called Luke today. I know, there’s no reason to. We’re broken up. But it’s three days to Valentine’s Day, and I just... I just wanted to talk to him. Just to see how he was, at least.”

“And?” There’s a catch to Ameera’s voice, but Noah can’t be bothered to decipher it now.

“And he acted like he didn’t even know who I was. At all. Even went so far as to say ‘Noah who?’ He treated me like a stranger.” He stops pacing. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, honey. It’s horrible,” Ameera still sounds strained.

“Anyone want a drink?” Jeremy asks, sounding even more strained.

Ameera groans out his name. “Jeremy, just give it a rest.”

“He’s punishing me for being honest, that’s what it is,” Noah decides, shoving the watch back into his jacket pocket. “For that fight we had. Or for still being in LA, or, or, I don’t know. Maybe I should go to Oakdale.”

Both of his friends look alarmed at that. “I don’t think you should, man,” Jeremy shakes his head.

“Because, what? I haven’t been desperate up until now?” Noah growls sardonically.

“Maybe you should take this as a sign to move on,” Ameera offers. “A clean break.”

“With Luke?” Noah is the one to shake his head. “No such thing. Ever. _Ever._ ”

Jeremy stares at him long and hard, then lets out the breath he always does when he’s come to a difficult decision. “See, Noah, the thing is-”

“Jeremy!” Ameera cuts in sharply. “We agreed that we’re not-”

“This isn’t about us,” Jeremy interrupts right back. “It’s about Noah. Who’s an adult, okay, not Momma Ameera’s kid.”

She throws her hands up and stalks into the kitchen. Noah watches her go, but Jeremy’s too busy digging through the mail on his end table. “Look, man, there’s no easy or logical way to have this conversation. So here, read this. I got it in the mail yesterday, Ameera got one too.”

“What is it?” Noah frowns as he takes the letter.

“Just read it,” Jeremy already looks sad for him.

Which, not surprisingly, doesn’t really motivate Noah to read it. “What-?”

“I don’t know, it’s a place that does a thing,” Jeremy shrugs almost gently. “Read it.”

Noah reads.

 _To Whom It May Concern,_

 _ **Luke Snyder** has had **Noah Mayer** erased from his memory. Please never mention their relationship to **Mr. Snyder** again. Thank you._

 _Lacuna, LTD  
424 Grand Street, Chicago, IL_

Noah wonders, for more than a second, if he’s still breathing. “What is this?” He finally looks back up at Jeremy, only half-noticing that Ameera has rejoined them. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a company in Chicago,” she speaks soothingly. It doesn’t work. Noah is very unsoothed. “They’ve been doing this procedure successfully for years now, apparently. We weren’t going to tell you,” she looks pointedly at Jeremy, who crosses his arms defiantly. “But Luke had the procedure done three days ago.”

He looks back down at the letter. It can’t be real. It can’t be. It can’t, it can’t. “Why?” he asks, barely recognizing his own voice. They don’t answer him, which is fine.

He wasn’t asking them.

The screaming and questions and, fuck, the _memories_ start running through his mind faster and faster like a roller coaster gathering speed. He can’t stop them. Everything. Every word, every touch, every thought about Luke, from the necktie in WOAK to mistletoe to... to everything. The person he loves most, thinks about most, fucking _breathes_ for... chose to not think about him for the rest of his life.

Fuck.

The noise in his brain gets louder and louder, building up to a cacophony he can’t shut off. Just when he’s about to scream out loud, or stop breathing, or maybe explode, it stops. With a bang. A decisive, ‘fuck you’ bang.

“What’s the number for this place?”

Ameera strides fully into the room, right into his face. He finds he can’t look directly into her eyes. “No. Noah, no. Don’t even think about it.”

“Why not?” Noah glares down at her, ashamed of the tears at the corners of his eyes. “Why should I have to bear the burden of our failed relationship by myself?”

“Noah...” she reaches for him, but he stumbles back, landing onto the couch next to Jeremy, who inches a little closer but doesn’t try to touch him. Ameera sighs, sits down in the chair opposite him. “Luke was talking to someone at a hospital fundraiser, the woman told him about this company. He decided to erase you, almost as a lark.”

“A lark?!” Noah means to shout it, but it comes out as a croak.

She looks immediately like she regrets the word, but has to nod. “You know Luke, Noah. He’s like that. Impulsive.”

Something Noah isn’t. The few times he’s been impulsive, it’s either gone really well (kissing Luke, punching Brian, kissing Luke) or really badly (kissing Maddie, enlisting, punching Reid). Maybe it’s time to be impulsive again.

“Noah...” Ameera tries one more time.

“Why did he erase me and not Reid?” Noah whispers. He hates himself for even thinking that, but there it is. Neither Ameera nor Jeremy seem to know what to say to that, but Noah didn’t think they would. He drops his head into his hands, and only then do his friends reach out, touch his back, his shoulder. Trying to comfort him in this completely unfathomable, fucked up situation.

He almost wants to laugh. Only Luke Snyder would get him into a situation like this.

Only now, Luke could never say that about him. Luke doesn’t even know his name. Or his eye color. His favorite movie. The story behind the scar through his eyebrow. His favorite Swedish Fish flavor.

Luke doesn’t want to know him anymore.

Noah stands up again, wanting to pace and wanting to go crawl into bed and never get out. He can’t take the screaming in his brain again, so he goes with what seems like the most logical solution to him- “What’s the number for this place?”

***

“Now, normally,” the doctor ushers Noah into his office, gesturing for him to take a seat. “We have a waiting list, especially so close to our peak holiday season. But, considering the circumstances here, I believe we can-”

“Circumstances?” Noah interrupts, unable to sit all the way back in his chair.

Dr. Cooke doesn’t seem to have that problem. “With most cases, ended relationships and such, the exes are able to go their own ways relatively smoothly. You’re, quite honestly, the first we’ve had in ages who has learned of their former... partner’s procedure.” He offers Noah a smile, and if it weren’t for the _circumstances_ , Noah would probably find it pleasant. “And coming all the way from Los Angeles for this-”

“Not just this,” Noah hastens to add. “I’m in Chicago for work, too. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay,” Dr. Cooke answers amiably. With another smile, “It’s not often that two people are still tied to each other, even after a separation such as this.”

Noah wonders if he should take a little bit of pride in that. Right now, he can’t. “Yeah, well, that’s only going to last a few more hours. Right?”

“Right,” Dr. Cooke is back to all-business-mode. He shuffles through a file of documents. “First thing you’ll need to do is collect everything, every single thing, that has an association with Luke. Photos, clothing, journals, anything. We want to empty your home, your _life_ of Luke.”

“Okay,” Noah nods, determined, along for the ride now. He refuses to think of those tangible things he’ll be losing. It’ll be worth it to lose this giant, stabbing pain in his chest, right?

Dr. Cooke nods back. “We’ll use these items to create a map of Luke, in your brain. Our technicians will go in tonight and follow that map. Erasing every stop along the way, so to speak. Wiping it clean.”

“Is there risk of brain damage?” Noah asks, suddenly worried about his own medical history. And subsequent luck with said medical history.

Dr. Cooke chuckles, reminding him very briefly of Dr. Hughes. “Well, technically the procedure itself is brain damage. But on par with a night of heavy drinking, nothing you’d miss.”

He wants to argue that statement, but doesn’t, taking a deep breath instead. There’s no turning back now. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, but then sees Luke’s file sitting on the doctor’s desk. Luke didn’t turn back. Luke erased him.

Noah could do the same. “Now what?”

Dr. Cook smiles kindly, pushing both a tape recorder and a box of tissues closer to Noah. He flips the recorder on as he says, “You and I will chat a little, so we can get a sense of the memories we need to track. So please, tell me your name and who you are here to erase.”

Noah eyes the box of tissues like it might sprout teeth and bite him. Then ignores it. “My name is Noah Mayer and I’m here to erase Luke Snyder.”

“Very good. Tell me about Luke.”

And if there’s ever been a more difficult command, Noah has never heard it. “Um, like what?” How do you put _Luke_ into words?

“Everything,” the doctor is still smiling. “Just begin talking, we’ll find what we need.”

Noah nods, slowly, eyeing his file, Luke’s file, the tape records, his hands that weren’t shaking. And then he starts talking.

***

Noah blinks, staring at himself in Dr. Cooke’s office, telling the tape recorder all about the ball of energy and hair product that is Luke Snyder. How is this possible...?

Then Noah realizes (remembers? understands?) that he’s watching a memory. That it’s later that night, he’s asleep in his hotel room in Chicago, and the technicians have started the procedure. Started erasing Luke.

He tries listening in, hearing himself describe the Snyder farm and what the barn looks like, but the memory starts to go dark, fading, like the end of a scene in an old movie before they had the technology for smoother transitions. He watches as this ‘scene’ ends, and another begins.

The last time he saw Luke...

***

“How do you expect me to react to that?” Luke demands, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Oh, how dare I, right?” Noah is just as pissed off. “How dare I tell you I love you and want _any_ reaction to that. So stupid of me.”

“What do you want from me, Noah? You want me to forget everything that’s happened and pretend everything’s a-okay and we can just... go back to what we were?” They’re standing in the parking garage of Noah’s apartment, and thank God they’re alone. Luke looks like he wants to hit something.

Noah feels like he already has. “The nice part of me wants to say that all I want from you is for you to be happy. Finally. Since apparently I’ve never been able to do that for you in the past. But the selfish part just wants some sort of hope. Wants to believe that... that at some point, _any_ point, there’s hope.” He turns away for a second. “I don’t want to go back to what we were, Luke. I want to start over. Something new. I just want some hope.”

“How can you put that burden on me?” Luke’s voice gets quieter too, which is worse. Because he’s not yelling things out in spur-of-the-moment emotion. He knows what he’s saying right now. God, it hurts. “How can you try to guilt me into this?”

“I’m not,” Noah still can’t look at him. “Why would I want to guilt you into loving me back?”

“God, Noah, I can’t take this,” Luke snaps again. “This? Right here? Makes me feel like shit. Why would I want to keep this in my life?” He smacks his hand against his car. “I don’t need nice. I don’t need myself to be it, and I don’t need anyone else to be it at me.”

“And you don’t need me,” Noah finishes for him, feeling himself hide behind his mask once more. “Why did you come to LA, then? Couldn’t you just re-break up with me over the phone?”

“I need it to be real,” he says simply.

“I forgot, this is all about what you need,” Noah replies, almost calmly, before he can stop myself.

They’re both silent, breathing quietly. If they’re breathing at all. “I love you,” Luke says finally. “I do. Always will. But I can’t do this. Not now, maybe not ever. I can’t give you any hope.”

“Then fucking go,” Noah is turned completely away from Luke to stare at the wall instead. It’s better. “I guess I should be done too. Just get your complicated, self-centered mess out of my life. Go.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be the one _not_ leaving for once? You think I start drama on purpose or something?”

Noah forces himself to keep turned away. “Isn’t that how you test whether or not people like you?”

There’s silence, and then the sound of Luke going. Footsteps, a car door opening and closing, engine starting up.

And Noah breaks, punching the wall in front of him. His hand scrapes along it, cutting the face of his watch. He doesn’t care. “Luke...” he turns around, but Luke and his car aren’t there. It’s the same wall he was just looking at. He frowns, turns again. The wall. Still there. “Luke?” He runs down the length of the garage, to where he _knows_ there’s a door that leads outside. Maybe to Luke. But when he turns the corner... no. The wall again.

He turns around again, and again, but the same wall keeps staring at him. No cars, no doors, no Luke.

And then the memory fades away.

***

He knows where they are. They’re standing in Old Town, just past the Lakeview, and Noah knows exactly _when_ they are too. Noah already hates himself, his brain, Luke, Dr. Cooke, everyone. This memory... this one ranks up there with finding out the truth about his parents. Waking up blind for the first time. The. Worst.

“-not right for each other,” Luke says, as though he hasn’t said this before (technically, he hasn’t). As though he won’t say it again a thousand times in Noah’s mind (technically, soon, he won’t).

And just like when it really happened, Noah stands there, lets Luke keep talking and breaking the three-year-old heart he had made for himself. Lets Luke get out all the frustration he’s had since Noah’s accident and pour the salt of it on Noah’s fresh wounds. Lets Luke demonstrate just how much he doesn’t love Noah anymore.

Fuck. He can’t wait for this memory to go.

“You know what,” he snaps, wanting to speed the whole thing along, “you’re probably right.” Whoa. This part didn’t really happen. He’s playing in his own memories now? Can he do that? Oh well, too late to stop. “You don’t love me. You don’t even know who I _am_ anymore!”

“Yeah, well, and who’s fault is that?” Luke snaps back. Obviously he can play in Noah’s memory too. “Maybe it’s a relief that I don’t have you in my brain anymore, isn’t that what you’re thinking? That’s how little you expect of me now. Fuck anyone who doesn’t live up to your expectations.”

“It doesn’t matter. By morning you’ll be gone from my life too,” Noah is still yelling, defiant, almost childish. “It’s perfect, isn’t it? The perfect ending to this piece of shit story.”

There’s a sudden crash, earth-shattering almost, and Noah whirls around to see the roof and walls of Java caving in. He stares, watching it crumble and disappear. Turning back around, he just barely catches a glimpse of the back of Luke as he turns a corner, walking away from Noah.

“Luke-” he starts after him before remembering the words they had just thrown at each other. He stops. He lets him go. Behind him, Al’s and Metro are starting to crash to the ground. Luke is gone. Noah stands still as everything falls around him.

***

“We should stay here in bed all day,” Luke murmurs into the back of Noah’s neck.

“Hmm?” Noah isn’t really motivated to understand the words, face still buried into his pillow.

“Noah,” Luke nudges him slightly. “We don’t have to do anything today, you know. If you want to stay away from... anything.”

“Huh?” Noah finally rolls over onto his back to stare up at his boyfriend. “Today?”

Luke is regarding him solemnly. “Father’s Day. If you want to-”

“We’re doing dinner at the farm tonight, Luke. For Holden. We can’t skip that.” He shakes his head. “I’m fine. Really.”

Luke is on his side, chin propped in one hand. “Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

“But I’m fine,” he repeats, a little confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t tell me things, Noah,” Luke sighs. “I’m an open book. I tell you everything, every embarrassing thing. I want you to share things with me, too.”

“Am I doing something wrong?” Noah’s more awake now, turning to mirror Luke’s position.

Luke shrugs, almost apologetic. “No. I don’t know. It’s just, like, communication is supposed to be the key to a good relationship, right? And sometimes... I don’t know, it feels like I do a lot of it. And I don’t always know what you’re feeling.”

“Constantly talking isn’t necessarily communicating,” Noah points out, only half-kidding.

Luke half-smiles in return, reaches out and runs his hand through Noah’s hair. “I just want to make sure we’re on equal footing here. That you know you can share stuff with me.”

Noah stands in the corner of this room, watching himself and Luke. As the memory dissolves away, he finds himself thinking, _I wish I could share everything with you._

***

Their first week in their first apartment together, and they’ve hardly made it out of bed. They’re there now, facing each other, barely-barely nose to nose. Noah’s eyes are shut, because trying to focus on Luke’s face this close makes his eyes cross, which leads to Luke teasing him, which leads to _him_ tickling Luke, which leads to... Okay, maybe Noah could open his eyes.

He does, slowly, and is surprised that Luke looks almost sad. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly, letting his fingers creep over to intertwine with Luke’s. Even their knuckles fit together just right, how is that possible?

Luke looks up at him, smiling. “Nothing, just thinking.” He leans in and lightly kisses their joined hands.

“About what?” Noah keeps his voice quiet as though that’ll help.

He’s silent for a minute, not sure how to answer. “I never thought I’d get this far,” he admits, just as quiet. “A boyfriend-slash-partner, an apartment. Starting a job. It’s all so, so far away from what I was before you came to Oakdale.”

“I don’t think I have anything to do with it, baby,” Noah points out. He would be amazed if Luke was supposed to somehow turn out differently. He’s too... _Lukeish_ to not be.

“You do,” Luke insists. “The way you look at me sometimes? I- I can barely stand it. In a good way,” he hastens to add, smiling a little again. “Like, I want to check behind me to make sure it’s _me_ you’re looking at. What could someone like me have possibly done to earn that look?”

This is all very philosophical for three in the morning, and Noah’s been up since six the morning before. So he lets his brain go for the simplest, truest answer. “I love you.” Duh.

And Luke smiles a real Snyder Smile, however brief. “Love you too.” He tilts his face up to Noah, but Noah cranes his neck enough to kiss Luke’s forehead instead. It feels more appropriate, more comforting. When he pulls back, Luke moves with him, settling on Noah’s shoulder. “You look at me like I can do anything. Be anything. And when you do, sometimes I really believe it.”

“Luke...” Noah’s concerned now.

“When I was little, with my parents and family I have, it was like everything and nothing was expected of me at the same time. It was so confusing. I didn’t know... I didn’t know anything.” He offers a sad smile. “Sometimes I don’t think people understand how lonely it is to be a kid.”

“Like you don’t matter,” Noah murmurs, agreeing, hating the mournful look on his boyfriend’s face and not knowing how to get rid of it.

Luke leans up again, and this time they kiss for real, slow, lingering. Reassuring. “I thought there was something wrong with me, something ugly, for a long time,” Luke whispers against his lips. “Until you. And how you look at me.”

“You’re beautiful,” Noah whispers back. He whispers it over and over, on every inch of Luke’s face, trailing his lips along skin. “You’re beautiful.”

He feels panic this time when the memory starts to trickle away. _No. Please. Let me keep this one._

By the time he finishes the thought, the memory is gone.

***

He had been so very- characteristically- hesitant when Luke first suggested it. But, just as typically, Noah had no hope of denying him. So here they are, lying on their backs in the middle of Snyder Pond, staring up at the stars.

He’d been picturing all those stupid Discovery Channel specials about people falling through ice, but of course- just like everything else in this farm and this family- the frozen over pond is stable and holds him up.

They’re side by side on the ice, Noah pointing out a few constellations he knows, throwing in a fake one every once in awhile to see if Luke is listening. He tugs Luke closer, hooking an arm around him so Luke could rest his head on it.

Luke smiles, kissing the tip of Noah’s almost-frozen nose. “Hi.”

Noah blushes back. “What was that for?”

He shrugs, shoulder bumping lightly into Noah’s. “You look, I don’t know, content.”

“I am,” he admits, tilting his head so he could rest his cheek in Luke’s spiky hair. “I could die right now, Luke. I’m just... happy. I’ve never felt that before.” Quieter, “I’m just exactly where I want to be.” He’s almost surprised by how much he means it.

Luke is looking him over, eyes full of fifty billion emotions, love just one of them. But before he could say anything back, the trees around them started to disappear, vanishing into gray shadows. “Noah,” Luke starts, even though his voice sounds muddy and distorted, like it’s underwater. And then, even as Noah watches, Luke begins to pull away.

No, not pull. It’s like he’s being dragged by some force. Away from Noah.

“Luke!” he reaches, but it’s not enough. He’s too far away. Noah scrambles to his feet. _No._ “No. No. Dr. Cooke! I changed my mind! Please...” he starts to run across the ice after Luke. “I changed my mind, I don’t want this! Can you hear me? I want to call it off!”

There’s no answer.

He blinks, alone on the pond. It hasn’t faded just yet, but it will soon. He moves to the shore, to safety, but then stops. “No,” he tells himself again. He turns, running after Luke again. He can catch him this time, he knows he can.

The shadowy figure ahead of him gets closer and closer as he runs, until finally he can make out Luke’s shape, and finally he can reach out and grab Luke’s hand, keeping him from fading away. “Luke, come on. We have to go,” he pulls Luke to his feet and starts running in the opposite direction.

“What’s going on?” Luke is confused but follows anyway.

“Just trust me, we have to go!” They run together, hand in hand, as the pond finally disappears from memory. Noah turns, dragging Luke through another memory, this time through Yo’s during the Cyndi Lauper concert. Just as “True Colors” starts playing, everything goes gray and shapeless. Gone.

Noah isn’t done yet, though. “Noah...” Luke gasps a little, out of breath, but Noah keeps running. _No._ They run through Casey’s house, with him and Ali and Riley popping out of existence as it all gets erased inch by inch. The walls of the house drop out of sight just as Noah finds the memory from earlier today.

“Dr. Cooke,” he’s gasping now too, holding onto Luke’s hand like a lifeline. “You have to stop this. I don’t want it. I don’t.”

Dr. Cooke turns from where he was talking to earlier-today-Noah. “I’m sorry son, but we can’t stop it. Once the procedure starts, there’s no going back.”

“You have to do something,” he insists. “I’m going to wake up soon. And I won’t remember him at all. I love him, but I won’t when I wake up, will I? You have to fix this!” He turns to Luke, hoping for support or something, anything, but it’s not Luke. Luke’s body and silly blond hair, yes… but it’s like his face is wiped clean. Gone.

Erased.

***

They’re sitting in the hay bales in the barn, idly picking straw out of the stacks and throwing them at each other. Noah is smiling, giggling at the piece stuck in Luke’s hair, when it all comes back to him. “Shit! Luke, they’re erasing you. We have to do something, we have to-”

“Noah, baby, calm down, it’s okay.” Luke ruffles his hair playfully. “You always worry too much.”

“No, Luke, I need to stop it before it’s morning and I don’t know you anymore,” he insists, bordering on pleading.

“Then stop it,” Luke shrugs as though it’s obvious.

“I can’t,” he points out, falling back into normal Snyder’s-talking-crazy times. “I’m asleep.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Then wake yourself up!” he waves his hands in Noah’s face.

“It’s not that simple,” Noah protests, batting away Luke’s hands and the hay he tries to throw too.

“God, you’re such a nay-sayer sometimes,” he half-teases.

Noah grumbles under his breath. Why isn’t Luke taking this seriously? “Okay, fine. You want me to wake up? Okay, look, here we go.” He gets up and lies down on the floor of the barn, exaggerating his movements. “Okay. Waking up now.” He opens his eyes wide, prying them open further with his fingers, ignoring Luke’s exasperated groan. “Any second now...”

And suddenly, for a brief moment, Noah feels himself lying in a bed. Staring up at a nondescript off-white ceiling. His hotel room. Chicago?

He blinks, and he’s back at the barn. He turns to Luke. “It worked.”

Luke, of course, is smug. “See?”

“But only for a second. It won’t change anything. I’m still going to lose you,” Noah sits up, drawing his legs in close. Pouting, he has to admit.

Luke mock-pouts, sitting down in front of him. “Well, self-fulfilling prophecy much?”

“You started it,” Noah argues. “You erased me first, I’m... I’m only doing this because of you.”

All the mocking is gone now. He looks Noah over sadly, reaching out and tangling his fingers in Noah’s sleeve. “I’m sorry. You know me, baby. I’m impulsive.”

Noah just nods. “It’s what I love about you,” he whispers. And they stare at each other until the time stretches out into nothing. And disappears.

***

“I have an idea,” Luke taps him on the knee.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes closed, head resting on Luke’s shoulder. The couch that Lily picked out for her family room is way too comfortable.

“These eraser-guys are going after the memories you have of me. That’s where I am in your brain, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Noah to answer. “So all you have to do is take me to a memory of something else. Something I’m not a part of.” He ends with a flourish of his hands, dislodging Noah from his shoulder. “And we hide there until morning.”

Noah blinks. “I can’t remember anything without you,” he admits without thinking.

“That’s very sweet,” Luke replies sincerely. “But try.”

“Okay,” Noah looks around at the Snyder family room, trying to think of a memory. _Anything_...

A sound comes to mind. Rain. He thinks hard, remembering rain falling against a gray cloudy sky. Fragments and images come back to him- running down a sidewalk, trying to outrun the raindrops, singing a song they’d learned in kindergarten that day. _Row, row, row your boat/ Gently down the stream..._

“Noah,” Luke grabs his arm. “It’s working, look!” All around them in the family room, rain is starting to fall, soaking the carpet, dripping down the picture frames on the walls, puddling around the table by the kitchen.

Noah remembers having to run for cover, taking shelter on the porch. And so he gets up from the couch to get out of the rain and hides under the table. Bit by bit, a memory becomes clear. He’s three, maybe four? In the kitchen of whatever house on whatever base they lived at that year. After his mom died (the first time).

He cowers even more under the table, hoping to be invisible, watching the legs of his father and another man walk around the kitchen. The Colonel leaves the room for a moment, and the other soldier leans down to peak under the table. And it’s the soldier but, somehow, it’s also Luke. “This is crazy,” he informs three-year-old Noah.

Noah nods, arms wrapped around himself. He’s not so sure he likes this.

“Who am I?” Luke asks, looking down at the uniform he’s wearing, fiddling with the medal pinned to his chest pocket.

“Lieutenant Prima,” Noah answers, his voice wobbling and way too childlike. Normal Noah is warring for space with Baby Noah, and it’s all very upsetting. He tries to hide himself even more. “He used to watch me when my dad was at work.”

“Fuck, this is insane, this is totally crazy,” Luke says, even though he’s smiling for some reason, inspecting the kitchen. “This is where you grew up? At least, some of the time?” He goes to the fridge, looking at the picture of Noah tacked on there. “Man, I wish I could take this with me somehow.”

“Lieutenant,” the Colonel reappears then, causing both Luke and Noah to jump.

Noah stays hidden, cringing a little, but Luke straightens his shoulders, trying to go along with the memory and not flip out on the asshole who (in about fourteen years) will try to ruin his and Noah’s lives. “Yes,” he grits his teeth, trying to stay in character, “sir?”

The Colonel starts listing off instructions of all the things his son can and can’t do (both Luke and Noah can’t help but notice there’s more on the _can’t_ side), but since the memory isn’t really his, Luke turns away and lets the Colonel keep talking. “Noah? Come here.”

“No.” It’s definitely three-year-old version winning out now.

“It’s okay, he can’t do anything,” Luke tries to soothe. “It’s just a memory, remember?” He makes a face at the word choice, but continues on. “Please? It’s okay.”

“He’s not looking at me,” Noah stubbornly says in reply. “He’s too busy. No one ever looks at me.” It’s the little kid talking, but Noah can’t stop himself. “Luke, I don’t like this.” Tears start welling up in his eyes, and he blinks hard. He’s not allowed to cry, it’s on the Can’t List. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either,” Luke admits, biting at his lip as though he wants to cry too. “But hey, Noah, listen to me,” he moves around to the corner of the table where Noah’s still huddled, and suddenly he’s the same size, and he’s Luke and Noah’s Noah and for a second things seem okay.

“Luke,” he tries to say all of this, but it gets stuck in his brain.

But Luke smiles like he gets it anyway. _Row, row, row your boat..._ “We can do this. We can hide here for a little while.”

“And what then?” he pouts.

Luke throws both arms around him, holding him close. There’s an instant warmth, safety, love that three-year-old Noah clings to as much as Normal Noah does. _Gently down the stream..._ “Then,” Luke murmurs in his ear. “You’ll wake up in the morning. And you’ll remember me. And you’ll come find me- real me- and tell me about us, and we’ll start over. Because I do love you, Noah. Completely and totally.”

 _Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily..._ “We’ll start over,” Noah says, more a confirmation than a question.

But then there’s a voice, from far away. Dr. Cooke’s? Here? Something about ‘getting back on the grid,’ and Noah hears an odd beeping sound. He looks desperately to Luke. “They found us?” Luke whispers.

“Luke,” Noah wants to say something, anything more, but then everything fades away. Gone.

 _Life is but a dream._

***

Another beep, Dr. Cooke’s voice again- “Okay, we’re back online. How the hell did he jump away like that?”- and Noah’s at Metro again, watching Lily, Lucinda, and Brian update him and Luke on the foundation projects.

Oh, hell no. Not again. With a tiny glare at Brian, just because he can, he grabs Luke and pulls him away again, trying to find another memory. Metro disappears in a flash behind them.

“You have to hide deeper this time,” Luke lectures as they run through a Java memory, one of the many times Luke interrupted him at work. Noah can’t even keep track of how many times that happened. “Something they wouldn’t know about. Something _I_ don’t know about.”

Java shimmers and disappears around them. ‘Deeper,’ Noah tells himself. They run quickly past the memory of him and his dad yelling at each other in that military office, Noah yelling that he wished his dad hadn’t come back from the dead, yelling that he’d never leave Oakdale and Luke. Luke hesitates, like he wants to stay and watch this one, but Noah tugs him along. “No. Come on.”

There are some things he would gladly forget if he could.

***

He’s a little kid again, but maybe seven or eight this time. He thinks they’re in Fort Lewis, judging by the weather. Rain again, of course. Noah hates the rain. He misses the base they had just come from, in San Diego. It was so much nicer there. And there had been so many more people, which made it easier for him to blend in.

Not here. Here, he’s still skinny, still scrawny, still trying to hide. Being the only kid in school with no mom, a high-ranking officer for a father, and absolutely no interest in playing football makes him the target of every bully in third grade.

They’re crowding around him now, yelling and jeering, calling him names he doesn’t even understand (yet). All because he refused to throw rocks at the stray dog in the neighborhood like the other kids were. But he couldn’t do it. He doesn’t want to be a bully; he knows what it feels like to be that dog, in a way.

“No, I don’t want to!” he tries to yell back. They don’t listen, just get closer, and meaner, until the hollering is one loud indistinguishable noise. He wants to cover his ears with his hands, but knows they’ll just taunt him more.

And then suddenly someone else is there, standing protectively between him and the other kids. Noah blinks, confused. It’s a boy his age, with hurricane-messy blond hair and a striped t-shirt. He yells at them to leave Noah alone, then turns and grabs Noah’s hand, leading him away. In that moment, Noah knows him. _Luke._

“La la la, he’s not listening!” Luke calls back over his shoulder to the bullies, squeezing Noah’s hand. “We’re leaving now!”

“I hate them,” Noah mumbles as they walk down the sidewalk, long-distant memory telling his feet where to go.

“No you don’t,” Luke says immediately. “You don’t hate anyone.” Quieter, “Even when maybe you should.”

Noah doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. They’re still holding hands. Another block, and they’re in front of Noah’s latest house. It looks just like the last one he lived in, and the one before that, but Noah doesn’t mind at the moment. Luke is holding his hand.

“Is he home?” Luke asks, glaring obstinately at the front door.

“Nope. He never gets home until dinner. Eighteen hundred sharp,” Noah rattles off the words, words he repeated so many times as a kid.

Luke turns to him with a wide grin then. Noah can’t help but grin back. He likes knowing that Luke’s grin never changes from age seven to twenty-two. “Good. Wanna play?”

“Play?” Noah asks.

“Yeah,” Luke looks at him slyly, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re it!” Noah stares for maybe a second before lunging forward. They chased each other around the front yard, and for awhile Noah let himself believe this is real. This is what really happened, and life is going to be great because he has Luke Snyder around for it.

They collapse in a heap together by the front porch, giggling and gasping for breath. “Can we stay here?” Noah asks, staring up at the sky.

“I don’t know,” he hears Luke answer next to him, sad. “I hope so-”

Even as he says it, there’s a creaking, cracking sound next to them. Noah refuses to look, he knows the house is crumbling and decaying. Just like the memory. Dr. Cooke found them again. The colors around him start to fade, and he almost wants to shut his eyes so he can’t watch it disappear. But he doesn’t want to waste one second that Luke is still here with him. “Luke, I-”

And he’s gone.

***

Another beep, and they’re sitting on the bench. _Their_ bench. It’s always been theirs. Even when Noah forgets this, he’s pretty sure, somehow, this will still be their bench.

“So you’re proud of me?” Luke’s fingers are twisted in his hair. Noah never told him how much he loved when Luke did that. God, he should’ve told him.

“Yeah, I already told you that,” he tilts his head into Luke’s hand. _Don’t go._

“Why don’t you show me?” No one has ever looked more mischievous than Luke Snyder in that moment, Noah would swear on his Billy Wilder DVD collection.

He raises his eyebrows just a little, silently asking _Does that mean what I think it means?_ And when Luke gives a little nod, he smirks, can’t help it. “Why don’t you come back to the dorms and let me?”

Except he can’t remember where his dorm is. Or what the name of the building is. He can’t remember what street it’s on. What his roommate’s name is.

He forgets.

The memory fades.

***

“You’re selfish.”

“Selfish?” Noah repeats, disbelieving.

“You’re selfish with your feelings,” Luke snaps. “You go on and on about...”

Noah watches them argue. “I remember that speech really well.”

“I had you pegged, didn’t I?” Luke teases him.

“You had the whole human race pegged,” Noah means to tease him back, but it comes out way too sincere.

“Hmm,” Luke is standing next to him, watching _them_ kiss. “Probably.”

“I still thought,” he pauses, gathers his courage. “I still thought I was never going to be enough- good enough- for you, even after that.”

He’s not sure how this is possible, but Luke wraps both arms around him from behind, chin on his shoulder. “Oh, I know.” Casey and Jade are nearby, high-fiving about the reunion.

“It would be different, if we could just give it another try,” Noah tells himself more than Luke. Because he believes it, even when he isn’t sure if Luke would believe it. He turns around in Luke’s arms, holds his waist. “It would be.”

Maybe Luke believes it too. He’s looking at Noah with all the conviction in the world. “Remember me,” he stresses the words, leans in even closer. “Try your best.” The colors around them are dissolving. “Maybe we can.” And just as they kiss, it’s gone.

***

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He doesn’t try to say anything this time, or do anything. Noah just stands and watches, savors. He flinches just like his past-counterpart does when the cell phone rings, grimacing when the Noah from then nearly trips over himself to get out the door as fast as possible.

“I wish you had stayed,” Luke tells him.

“Same here,” he finally speaks. “I wish I had done a lot of things, Luke. I wish... I wish I had stayed.” He laughs at himself, but it’s not the happiest sound in the world. “But I left.”

“Why?” Luke is regarding him seriously, almost rationally. Nothing like the Luke of that time, barely anything like the Luke he knows (knew) now.

“I don’t know,” Noah sighs, moving forward, inspecting the office he feels like he hasn’t been in for years. “I felt like a scared little kid. I was... like, it was above my head, okay? I don’t- I don’t know.”

“You were scared?” Luke’s eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” he laughs again. “I thought you knew that about me. I was trying to outrun... everything. Him. Me.” He turns to Luke again. “You.”

Luke smiles, almost gently. “Noah, what if you stayed this time?”

He shakes his head. “I walked out the door. There’s no memory left.”

Luke purses his lips, defiant. Lukeish. “So come back and make one. Let’s pretend we had one.” He steps up closer to Noah, and Noah can’t do anything but step closer too. Magnets. Gravity. Luke. They’re almost nose to nose and chest to chest. Luke looks up at him, still smiling. “Bye Noah.”

Noah leans his forehead against Luke’s. He tries to say it back. “I love you.”

***

If he could do it over, he would’ve kissed Luke right then and there, the two of the crashing against each other, wet, breathing hard, half-naked, and alone. All things they’ve never been before. Noah’s a lot of things around Luke he’d never really been before.

Except brave.

If he could be brave, he’d kiss Luke right now. Before Maddie comes in and he takes the coward’s way out yet again. Proving his dad right, _wanting_ to prove his dad right. So confused.

Now, he knows better. Now he knows he should just kiss Luke. Maybe everything would be different if he did. Luke wants him to, he can see it and feel it. And he wants to.

Maybe...

But it’s too late and the memory is wiped away.

***

“This kind of idiot. Hi, Noah Mayer.”

He holds out his hand, but can’t figure out why it’s shaking just a little. Why he’s so nervous and why he already really wants this guy to like him. He just does.

The guy- it has to be Luke- drops a giant stack of papers into his hands instead, and starts bitching about this, that, and the other. Most of it stemming from Noah being late. He wants to hang his head and immediately apologize, but Maddie interrupts.

She starts to lead Noah out for a tour of WOAK, and in the memory- just like it really happened- she walks out, chatting away. But it’s a memory, Noah knows now, and so he stays behind. Watching Luke.

Who’s watching him too.

They stare for a moment before Luke (of course) is the first to speak. “This is it, Noah. It’s all going to be gone soon.”

“I know,” he says softly. It’s his first memory of Luke. Meaning... it’s also the last.

Luke wraps his arms around himself. Noah takes a step forward, because he wants to do the same. “So what do we do?”

He’s at a loss for words. There’s nothing they can do, that’s the point. He reaches out both hands, cradles Luke’s face. “Enjoy it.”

Luke leans up, kisses his forehead, the side of his face. “I’ll find you,” he whispers. Barely that. It’s a breath in his ear. “Find me.”

They’re still kissing when the world finally ends.

***

The day starts sucking the moment Noah wakes up. He’s got a steady hangover banging against the inside of his skull, which sucks mostly because he can’t remember drinking the night before. He’s usually so careful about that, but last night... whatever, he must have needed it.

Their production has the day off, but Noah’s never really been one for days off. He decides to scout locations around Chicago, and sets off in his rental car.

He’s not entirely sure why he does it. In fact, he’s not sure at _all._ It’s the kind of impulsiveness you act on when you’re not afraid of limitations or consequences. It’s the kind of impulsiveness Noah’s pretty sure he has never possessed.

And yet, one moment he’s in his rental car, driving through the streets of Chicago. The next, he’s on the highway, wrenching the steering wheel to the side, taking an exit for God only knows what reason. And then pretty soon, he’s driving into this small random town, winding through small random streets.

And somehow he winds up on a random bench. Meets a random guy. And offers to give this guy a ride home.

\---

“I promise you, best milkshakes and burgers you’ll ever eat,” Luke is trying to sell him on having lunch with him, and Noah has to admit it’s working. Luke grins at his nod and opens the car door once he pulls over. “Okay, just give me a second to drop this bag off and pick up my mail and then we can go!”

Noah nods again. “Okay.” He sits back in his seat when Luke’s door closes, trying to contemplate all that’s gone on today. This kind of stuff never happens to him, and he has no idea what to do with it. His hand itches to pull out his phone and call Jeremy or Ameera, but that’s way too embarrassing. He’d never hear the end of it.

Luke is- he’s never met anyone like him. He’s a force of nature, definitely, but there’s something... off about him too. Something missing. He has a beautiful smile, and crazy energy, but none of it seems to reach his eyes.

Having been a ‘blend in’ person most of his life, Noah’s pretty good at reading people. The Luke he’s been seeing isn’t the real Luke. Not all of him, anyway. He’s one puzzle piece away from being complete. Or something.

There’s movement off to his right, and Noah watches as Luke reemerges from his apartment building, grabbing his mail on the way out. And whatever that _off_ thing is, Noah doesn’t really care. He just wants the time to find out.

“Huh,” Luke comments as he plops back down into the passenger seat. “This looks weird.” He holds up an envelope from his pile of mail, squinting at it. “Lacuna? The hell kind of name is that for a company?”

“What is it?” Noah asks, one eye on the road, the other on Luke.

“A CD?” Luke tears the envelope open. A note falls into Luke’s lap, but he’s more concerned with the case it came with. “What, someone sent me an anonymous mixtape?”

Noah gestures to the CD player in the car. “Put it in, if you want.”

Luke smirks at him for just a second, Noah rolls his eyes for a second longer, but the joke goes unspoken. Instead, Luke shoves the CD into the drive and presses play, scanning the note as he does so. “‘Dear Mr. Snyder, You deserve to know.’” He looks up at Noah, confused. “Know what?”

And then the CD starts up. A voice Noah doesn’t recognize begins speaking. _“Just tell me your name and who you’re here to erase.”_

 _“My name is Luke Snyder,”_ Luke and Noah stare at each other as Luke’s voice comes over the speakers. _“And I want to erase Noah Mayer.”_

“What the fuck?” they both say at the same time.

Noah barely manages not to slam on the breaks, but he does pull over, his hands shaking. “What is this?” he demands once the car comes to a stop.

Luke’s eyes are wider than should probably be possible. “I have no fucking clue.”

“Bullshit,” Noah shakes his head.

Luke’s voice is still filling the speakers- _“I’m sick of his ‘wounded puppy’ routine, I can’t take it. And he’s... he’s changed me. I don’t like it.”_

Luke is reaching for him tentatively. “Noah, I swear, I don’t-”

“Is this some joke? How do you know me?” Noah pulls away, sitting as far back and close to his door as possible.

“I don’t know you!” Luke insists. “I don’t know what the hell this is!”

 _“He wants me to just love him, like nothing happened, and I don’t know if I-”_

Noah’s shaking all over. “Get out. Get out of my car. This is... I don’t know what this is, but I’m not playing this game. Get out.”

Luke looks ready to argue, but thinks the better of it. He pops out the CD, gathers it and the note and the rest of his stuff, and opens the car door. “Okay,” he says shakily, climbing out.

The second the door shuts behind him, Noah speeds away, not looking back until the sight of Luke on the sidewalk has faded from his view.

***

Luke winds frantically through the streets of Chicago, a printed out Google map in his hand. It took a good hour of calls to find the hotel ‘Noah Mayer’ was checked into, and he still isn’t sure if this is the best idea or not. This whole situation is so fucked up, but that more than anything pushes Luke to find this guy again.

When he had first seen Noah on that bench (his favorite bench, and how random is that?), all he’d seen was the outside- a beautiful, long body with bright blue eyes and really, just like, the _best_ hair he’d ever seen on a guy.

And then he’d sat down next to him. And seen a little of the inside. Noah was maybe the most beautiful and most sad person Luke had ever met. He was lonely and sad with no earthly reason why. And Luke knew all that because, well, he was the same way. He just hid it behind loud energy and ever-changing hair cuts.

Noah didn’t hide it. And Luke was attracted to that.

He hadn’t been really attracted to a guy this way in a long time. Ever, if he really thought about it. With Reid, it hadn’t been an initial attraction. Then again, most of the time he couldn’t even really remember how he had first _met_ Reid.

That thought stops Luke in his tracks, in the middle of the sidewalk. Shit. Had he met Reid through this Noah guy somehow? And why was it that Noah didn’t know him at all? Or, wait. Remember him? Maybe Noah had his memory erased too?

His head hurts.

Luke starts walking again. This is why he needs to find Noah, talk to him. They need these questions answered. It has nothing to do with Noah’s eyes. Or the way his smile lights up his face and lights up Luke’s insides. The way there’s this huge story, novel-length, _War and Peace_ length, in his face that he tries not to show.

No. Luke needs to piece this puzzle back together. Whatever he feels... felt?... for Noah, it’s not as important.

It’s not.

His head hurts more.

He turns a corner and finds the hotel he’s pretty sure Noah is staying in. Room 601. He’s about to step onto the elevator when he hears someone say his name. _Noah?_

He turns, but it’s not him. Luke has no idea who this guy even is. “Hey Luke!” the guy calls out cheerfully. “You here to see Noah?”

“Um, yeah,” he (hopefully) plays along.

“Good,” the guy chuckles. “He’s been totally moping around this set all week. Glad you guys are working it out!” He waves on his way out the door.

Luke might be waving back, he’s not sure. He gets on the elevator in a trance. _No. Fucking. Way._ It just keeps getting weirder and weirder. This is real. This really happened.

He walks along the sixth floor to the end of the hall. 601. And strangely enough, the door is ajar, just a little. Feeling bold (when it doubt, barge right in), he pushes it open and walks through.

The first thing he sees is the journal he gave Noah just a few hours ago, sitting on the coffee table. He’s about to call out when he hears a voice. Noah’s voice.

 _“He’s just so desperate and insecure sometimes, I don’t know how to handle it._

It’s Noah’s voice, but coming through a speaker. Luke fully enters the room. Noah’s sitting on a couch, head in his hands. A laptop is open in front of him, playing a CD. Next to the laptop is an open envelope. From Lacuna.

Oh shit.

Noah looks up with a start. His eyes are tired, wary, and still so fucking blue. Luke stares into them, both of them listening to Noah’s words.

 _“I had to be perfect, do everything to support him and encourage him, but he didn’t want me to be me. He wanted me to be perfect for him. That’s it. He suffocated me.”_

Luke doesn’t flinch, but he wants to. He doesn’t, because he listened to all of his own CD and knows how harsh an ex-lover can be. And God, apparently he and Noah are ex-lovers.

 _“And the whole thing with his hair, it’s bullshit. He hides behind it._ ”

Noah clears his throat. “I really like your hair,” he says softly. It sounds like he just smoked a pack or two in ten minutes.

“Thanks,” Luke answers, smiling a little. Because what else is he supposed to do?

Noah shuts the laptop, cutting off his own voice. “So. I, um, I guess it wasn’t a joke.”

“Nope,” Luke dares to take a step closer.

Noah nods, to himself and to Luke. “I... shit, I don’t know what to do. Do you want a drink? I think I need one.”

“I can’t drink,” Luke shakes his head, fiddling with his hands. He needs to do something with his hands.

Noah stares at him for an uncomfortably long time before chuckling darkly. “Sorry. I’m just wondering if I should already know that.”

This time, Luke flinches. “Are you allergic to anything?” he tries to cover.

Noah tries to laugh again and fails. “No.”

“Well then we’ve gotten that out of the way.” He fidgets again. They both do. Luke knows now that Noah’s a pretty quiet guy, but for him to stay quiet this long is nearly unbearable. But he has no idea what to say. He twitches again, and again, until it all gets to be too much. “I- I can’t be here. Now. I should go.” He turns to the door before he has to see Noah’s face.

Nonetheless, he _feels_ Noah follow him to the hallway. God, walking him out? Who does that anymore? Luke guesses he can add ‘perfect gentleman’ to the Noah list. Great. He pauses in the doorway, and they stare at each other. Again. Noah clears his throat. “Luke...”

“Yeah,” Luke lets out a breath slowly. “It was, um, it was nice meeting you.”

And the look of pain that crosses Noah’s face at that nearly shreds Luke from the inside out. He doesn’t want to cause Noah pain, he realizes. Every instinct in him screams not to. Every instinct is pushing him to stay near Noah, his steadiness, his stupid plaid shirt and perfect hands and earnest expressions and...

Luke bolts. Not a full-out run, but pretty close. This is all just too much too soon. He’s made it down the hall and is just about to press the button for the elevator when there are footsteps hurrying behind him. “Luke, wait.”

“What, Noah?” he sounds demanding, but he has no idea how else to sound. He needs answers and he can’t get them.

“Just wait,” Noah catches up with him, blocking his way to the elevator.

“For what?” he’s almost hysterical.

“I don’t know,” Noah answers honestly, just as desperate. “But, please, just wait a minute. Just a little while.”

They stand in the hallway, facing each other. Staring.

“I’m not perfect,” Luke bursts out.

“All... right,” Noah eyes him warily.

“I’m not,” he insists.

Noah smiles tentatively, and it’s enough to make Luke want to melt and hug him and relax and no. He can’t. “I can’t see anything I don’t like about you,” Noah admits, a bit of a blush coloring his face.

Okay, he’s melting a little. “Well, there’s a lot. I’m clingy. I don’t really have any idea what I want to do with my life. I get tunnel vision and think the ends justify the means and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove my point.”

“I’m a neat freak,” Noah replies. “I’m eternally optimistic about everything but myself. I have emotional baggage that would send the best psychiatrists running for the hills. I expect the best of everyone and get really pissed off when they don’t achieve what I want them to.”

“I'm spoiled. Two trust funds,” Luke throws back.

“I hate asking for help. I'd rather force people away than let them see me as weak.”

“If people don’t agree with me or do things my way then they must be wrong and I won’t listen to their reasoning.”

“Okay,” Noah shrugs.

He’s startled into silence at that. For a few seconds, at least. “Okay?” he parrots back, like maybe he misunderstood.

Noah nods. “Okay.”

Luke opens and shuts his mouth a few times because, really, how is he supposed to respond now? “O-okay,” he finally says, laughing a little.

Noah laughs too, and it’s this perfectly dorky and silly laugh that Luke wants to bottle up and hear forever. And it feels like he’s falling fast and not fast enough. He blinks hard against sudden tears and isn’t even sure where they came from.

“Hey,” Noah steps forward probably without even thinking, his hand coming up halfway, maybe to touch his face? Wipe his tears? He pulls his hand back before Luke can figure it out. “I...” he steps back, then forward again. “Look, I’m bad with words, okay? But the way I see it? Some part of this- us- is meant to be, Luke. We’re here. We tried pretty much everything to not be, but here we are.”

He stares at this beautiful, beautiful guy and wants it to be true. For some reason, when Noah looks at him this way, he thinks maybe it can be. “We could screw it all up again,” he half-argues, taking a step forward himself.

Noah lifts one shoulder. “We could do it right this time.”

Luke’s feet are controlled by something other than his brain, obviously, because they move even closer to Noah. “But what if-”

Noah’s next argument is way more compelling, the kiss completely cutting off Luke’s words and oxygen and brain functions. And it’s pretty much perfect. _They_ may have forgotten each other, but their lips really haven’t. There’s no other way to explain just how perfectly they form together.

Noah pulls away gently, scanning Luke’s face for... something. Permission? Recognition? He’s biting his lower lip, full of uncertainty, and Luke has to do something about that. He steps into the empty space between them again, kissing the tip of Noah’s nose. He doesn’t know why he does it. It doesn’t make sense, really. But both of them relax.

Luke reaches out to fix Noah’s collar, and as he does there’s a flash in his mind. Like déjà vu. Like he’s done something like this before. He frowns a little, concentrating, trying to figure out that missing piece.

“What’s wrong?” Noah asks softly.

Luke shakes his head, clears it. _For now._ He smiles up at Noah. “Nothing.” He finishes adjust the collar, then takes another chance and slides one hand down Noah’s arm to link their fingers. Luckily, wonderfully, Noah returns the smile and the gesture. “Want to get that lunch now?”

Noah grins wide at that, and it’s one of the most beautiful things Luke has apparently seen before. He vows right then and there that he’s not going to forget it this time around. They get onto the elevator together, still holding hands. “Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders,” Noah murmurs as the doors close.

“What’s that from?” Luke asks.

“Nietzsche,” Noah shrugs, trying to sound lofty and failing spectacularly.

“Dork,” Luke nudges him in the side. Part of him wants to just curl into that body and feel Noah’s arm wrap tight around his waist. He’s pretty sure it’d be a perfect fit.

“Shut up, Snyder,” Noah squeezes his hand tighter.

As they walk out of the hotel together, Luke reminds himself that it’s not this easy. That they still have so much they have to work through and figure out. Who sent them the CDs? Is there a way to reverse the procedure? How are their friends and family going to react to this?

But those are the whats and hows. Right now, Noah’s hand in his, pulling them close together, Luke knows he doesn’t have to worry about the why. He found that.

He found Noah.


End file.
